61 pages • 2 hours read
Italo CalvinoA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: This section of the guide refers to sexual situations.
The novel takes the unusual step of directly addressing the audience. “You” (3) is the novel’s very first word, immediately emphasizing the individual identity of the person reading the text. The use of second-person singular to address the audience exemplifies how the novel breaks the fourth wall, or the theoretical barrier between those in the text and those reading the text. The narrator, a figure from within the text, addresses the audience, an entity outside the text. In doing so, the narrator draws attention to the audience’s role in the process of reading the novel. This isn’t so much passive consumption of a text as a self-aware exercise in exploring literary ideas. By turning the audience reading If on a winter’s night a traveler into the central figure in the novel, Calvino draws attention to the act of reading, breaking the fourth wall to involve the audience in exploring the fundamental idea of literature.
This direct address continues throughout the novel, to the point that the Reader emerges as the story’s protagonist. The narrator feels the need to develop the Reader’s character and, in doing so, suggests an innate bias. The narrator (presumably Calvino himself) outlines the characteristics of the typical Reader: young, heterosexual, male, and interested in literature, but not necessarily in an advanced academic sense. The Reader desires affection, romance, sex, and excitement, as evident in his interactions with Ludmilla and with novels. The presumption of this identity hints at Calvino’s understanding of his audience. Like Silas Flannery writing a novel for his neighbor to enjoy, Calvino makes demographic presumptions about his protagonist. Thus, the Reader reflects society at the time the novel was written. The Reader expresses the broadest, most dominant identity of a Calvino enthusiast, as Calvino perceived it. Through these presumptions about a generic Reader’s identity, the narrator reveals that he lives in a patriarchal, heterosexual society. In this sense, the ambiguity of the Reader’s identity becomes a commentary on both the author’s ideological presumptions and the interplay between the presumed and the actual audience. Whenever someone reading the novel doesn’t conform to the presumptions, the dissonance between the Reader’s presumed and actual identities emphasizes the author’s biases and presumptions. This dissonance is a reminder that no single, unified reader exists, just as reality isn’t a single, objective fact.
Reading a novel is a passive activity, and this passivity transfers to the novel’s protagonist: The Reader is subject to forces beyond his control, such as printing errors and police forces. He’s thrown in prison, where his agency is completely removed, and he’s continually denied the opportunity to finish the novels that he begins to read. The Reader’s passivity as a protagonist reminds the actual audience of their lack of relative power over the story. They can’t affect the story’s direction because they’re bound by the same institutional forces and chance events that govern the Reader’s misfortune. Like the Reader, the audience is denied the ending of the stories until the moment that the narrator deigns to provide it. The Reader and the audience are unified in terms of agency, thus emphasizing the power of the narrator and the text.
The novel uses a structure in which the main chapters are punctuated, or interrupted, by 10 separate stories and diary entries. Thus, the narrator of the main story is one of the few constant features in the shifting, changing text. The narrator immediately forms a bond with the audience, addressing them from the opening sentence by describing their actions. The Reader, the narrator says, is about to read If on a winter’s night a traveler by Italo Calvino. The statement is a self-fulfilling prophecy, in which the only way an audience could read the words is if, as the narrator states, they’re about to read If on a winter’s night a traveler by Italo Calvino. From there, the narrator (presumably Calvino) familiarizes himself with the audience by telling them to get comfortable and enjoy the novel. This direct, familiar address is atypical for a novel, which further suggests that the narrator is a character more than just a literary device. Rather than being just a means to convey the story to the audience, the narrator fosters a bond of empathy and understanding with the Reader (and, by extension, the audience) from the opening sentence. The familiar presence of this narrator amid the changing, unconventional narrative becomes a beacon of understanding as the structure and themes of the novel become increasingly abstract.
The narrator’s role diffuses each time the novel breaks for an interjected story. In these stories, a new narrator takes over. Similarly, in the diary of Silas Flannery, the author narrates from a first person perspective. The narrator’s nameless status bolsters this sense of universality. Although the narrator is presumably Calvino, the narrator mentions Calvino by name without suggesting or denying that he is, in fact, Calvino. The narrator shares many characteristics with the narrators of the interjected novels. These fellow narrators are young, male, and heterosexual to the point that their pursuit of women (either successful or unsuccessful) becomes a defining point of their narration. The commonality of the narration is a motif throughout the novel, with each story (the main chapters and the interjected stories) and Flannery’s diary using first-person narrators. This suggests a commonality between the narrators; they aren’t detached, omniscient third-person storytellers but characters in their own right. Whether they’re named Ruedi the Swiss, Gritzvi, or simply a universal first-person pronoun, the diffuse narrators are united by the act of narrating, just like the Reader and Ludmilla are united by the act of reading. These various narrators are part of a unified archetype, providing a literary function that recurs across time, space, and different texts.
The narrator’s function in the novel is to interrogate the act of reading. In a sense, the narrator is the lens through which the novel’s story unfolds to the audience. Since the narrator strives to establish himself as a character, his narration is fundamentally subjective. He enjoys reading literature, as clear in his empathy for the Reader’s having to endure constant interruptions. This subjectivity, coupled with the similarities and differences from the other subjective narrators, emphasizes the subjectivity of existence. Even among the narrators, no single, unified voice exists, mirroring the lack of a single, unified experience of existence. Subjectivity is evident in the act of reading in that all participants, from the reader to the narrator, must examine how their prior experiences influence their reading of a text. Thus, the narrator’s character becomes a postmodern exploration of the inherent subjectivity of literature and the world.
The counterpart to the protagonist of If on a winter’s night a traveler is Ludmilla. If the protagonist is the Reader, then Ludmilla is the Other Reader. She appears throughout the novel, both as herself and as a recurring archetype of women who serve a similar literary function. Even in the interjected stories, the protagonist often encounters a female romantic interest who shares many of Ludmilla’s traits. Foremost among Ludmilla’s traits is her interest in reading. Even more than the Reader, she’s fascinated by literature. This fascination makes the Reader feel embarrassed, as their first conversation demonstrates. Ludmilla interrogates the Reader via literary opinions that demonstrate both how much she loves to read and how much more she knows about the world of books compared to the Reader. At home, her apartment is dominated by books. Her physical living space is shaped by her love of literature: Books cover every surface. This love of books is innately ironic: As the protagonist’s love interest, Ludmilla seems to love her books far more than she loves the Reader. Even when they have sex, her physical love is expressed through her ability to read the Reader’s body as though it were another text. In this sense, her role as the romantic interest has an ironically abstract quality. She isn’t just in love with the Reader; she’s in love with the idea of reading.
In addition, the text defines Ludmilla’s character in opposition to those around her. Irnerio is her neighbor and friend. He claims not to read, himself, but frequently enters Ludmilla’s home to take books to use in his art projects. He uses books as physical objects to make art, while Ludmilla consumes a book’s intellectual content and then disposes of the physical object. Similarly, her sister, Lotaria, represents an academic interest in literature that contrasts with Ludmilla’s more naturalistic approach to novels. Lotaria sees novels as fodder for her academic discussions, only selecting those that will further her intellectual arguments and choosing to analyze novels using computers. In contrast, Ludmilla loathes the idea of starting a book that she knows will end in a certain fashion or reading a book whose author she has personally met. More explicitly, Ludmilla contrasts with her former lover, Marana, who runs a fraudulent translation conspiracy that only enriches him. Ludmilla cares about books rather than money, while Marana cares only about money. Given Ludmilla’s evasive personality, these contrasts are important tools in defining her character. As the audience—represented by you, the Reader—attempts to understand her better, the text reveals the contours of her personality only through their similarities and contrasts to those around her. Ludmilla is a work of comparative literature whose true character emerges in the context of the novel’s other characters.
A fraud who is involved in a global counterfeiting scheme, which the novel gradually uncovers, Ermes Marana never meets the Reader. Instead, he gradually emerges as the novel’s antagonist due to his persistent crimes against the idea of literary integrity. He promises to translate books but instead either invents entirely new works or translates works from other languages. His lack of respect for literature as art is evident in his letters to Mr. Cavedagna, which defy the traditional literary demands of coherent linear chronology and morality. He simply doesn’t care about these conventions. However, this defiance only makes him more fascinating for the Reader. Marana and Ludmilla have a strange relationship. They once dated, but his cynical lack of belief in the value of literature drove an unbridgeable divide between them. Nevertheless, the Reader becomes jealous of the relationship between Marana and Ludmilla. He envies Marana’s relationship with her, just as he envies Marana’s ability to defy social and literary expectations. In this way, Marana is like a translated work, whose true meaning is obfuscated by the layers of adaptation, invention, and error that are inevitable when trying to translate a work from one language into another. His true motivations may seem clear, but although the Reader can sense something more engaging and captivating about Marana, the Reader can’t fully comprehend this because he has no opportunity to directly speak with Marana and must rely on a translation of a novel written in a language he can’t speak.
Occasionally, Marana’s fraudulent books are interesting. The Reader feels the need to finish at least one of Marana’s fraudulent texts, just as he feels the need to finish other, conventional examples of literature. The reason Marana’s actions are abhorrent to the characters isn’t that his books aren’t captivating; his actions are abhorrent because they betray the idea of profundity in literature. The Reader, like many of the characters, wants a novel to entertain or thrill him. Marana doesn’t care about the audience; he just wants to make money. He represents the cynical forces of capitalism that distort and disrupt the pursuit of literary truth. On this basis, he becomes the villain of the novel.
By Italo Calvino
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